Somedays we may need to return to the nest lined with words of hope, blanketed by belief in our ability to fly again. Somedays we may need to hold ourselves leaning into curved sides of this small structure built by someone who loved us. © Ali Grimshaw 2020 dVerse Poet's Pub - Quadrille #113: Blanket Us
Painted leaves sing in unison Unlike music, their song is soundless harmony. This orchestra of glow soothes the tempo of an internal pounding from a day of instruments that refused to play the same song. Fall catches you with muted volume a serenade of equilibrium let the blushing colors sing you home. © Alicia Grimshaw (rewrite of 2018 poem)
Whose fault is it? Were you the one who left it undone? Did she really say say it that way or was it just play? Why didn't you leave sooner rather than later? Did it get better? Was he to blame? Should I feel shame? When did it all start mattering so much? Is it ok to touch? What is there to do? Are you wondering too? Where is the starting line now? What are the rules in play? Are you even in the race? Do you want to be? © Ali Grimshaw 2020 dVerse Poet's Pub - Open Link Night. Come join us here.
Broken shadows across the cracked ground smoke ghosts reside in charred places once nestled home spaces, closed doorways of tomorrow silent squatters drift among dreams to imagine rain, please rain. © Ali Grimshaw 2020 dVerse Poets Pub Challenge NONET – a nine line poem that begins with 9 syllables, descending line by line to 1 syllable. * First line of this poem taken from W.S. Merwin,“To the Light of September”
Stretched openness of summer sky. Time’s width I can't hold in one viewing. I bend to gather this spray of light and still can't see all points arriving through darkness. Each beam it’s own part in the collective we have named starlight. I stand openly as sky falls toward me into my arms assurance that is bigger than this moment. © Ali Grimshaw 2020 With all of the smoke in the sky, the stars are no longer visible. I remember they are there and see them in my dreams. Please send prayers and thoughts of goodness for the many fighting the wildfires in Oregon. Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com
golden smoke blocks the sun as I stand witness while winds shift to blow barging into planned days and so... I am listening. What better offering could I make while extending my reach to you? My throat burns with an ache to howl. As the people flee, where is safety now? So many blue sky days led us to false views. We are all running from something. walking away from something else. I'm sending my love on the wind, the force that both heats and cools. Both helpful and harmful, depending, contradictions of the mingled smokey fear. Tangles of the unknowable ringed history, as mystery held by the forest guardians now ash returning to soil. As flames fly from tree to tree, igniting compassionate hope or hatred I see through the window goodbye waves from living limbs of the still green. and I feel your heat from miles away. © Ali Grimshaw 2020 Oregon's Current Total Fires 37 Total Acreage Burned 805,332.364
Strong winds spread numerous wildfires in Oregon and Washington By Bill Gabbert
The messages kept landing paper birds like folded airplanes from the sky. Confetti of voices wanting to be heard swirling of anger, colors of hurt, colliding confusion spiraling to crash on the ground. We hold our hands out to catch them scattering in the street to pick up the fallen. Each message, a precious life with wings a paper bird in need of repair. We sit in a circle and begin to unfold cupping our hands, just one at a time listening to its life of song. It is like we have always known what was needed. We knew we would stay as long as it took to give the listening for each bird to be heard. It was clear. It was not a burden. As we gently passed them from one hand to another, one by one around the circle, the sky opened to us all. © Ali Grimshaw 2020 dVerse ~ Poets Pub, Open Link Night with Linda Share your voice and read the poems of others.
This poem is a reflection on the writing circles I have hosted. I will continue to offer a safe space of refuge for others to be seen and heard just as they are. Love is always the way forward.
“i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)”
– E.E. Cummings
Twisted deeply within the realization of this being the day of goodbye A warm sorrow reverberates through my limbs down to my heavy steps homeward. This is the part of loving wholeheartedly that I wish I could skip over. When the sunset arrives and takes you with it far from where I am. From the first time I laid eyes on you your inner charm worked magic on me a spirit who dared to explore, balancing fences, tree limbs, to rooftop scrambles while others shouted, "There is a kid up there." You never were the "play it safe" kind. I knew the someday would come of releasing you to fly in the wind. This motherhood thing sucks just when you've spent 18 years falling in love with your boy (even on days when you didn't feel like it) he turns into a man you adore with your whole heart proud, filled with keeping. Just then, it is time to share him with the world. It would be greedy of me not to share but in this moment I don't want to play by the rules, where sons grow up. Instead let me rewind; all aches, pains and joys to live again the rollercoaster of mothering you. Your journey of magnificent learnings, dares and caring that accumulate into you as the tower beside me. No matter where you walk upon the earth. I hope you hear my whispers in your ear, I carry your heart I carry it in my heart. © Ali Grimshaw 2020
Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Shadows and reflections
Reflecting on life in photos and words.
once you were sure of steadiness that capsizing only happened to others then the tilting began, a slow deep lean to the left side of righteous how easily the water seeped in, coldly chilling you from the inside out like the world had forgotten that you had always been the floating kind once you were rescued for no reason and you never forgot that any boat can sink when balance is lost at sea. © Ali Grimshaw 2020 dVerse Poetry Challenge - Come Sail
She had forgotten the gleeful falling feeling of freedom what it was like to jump on purpose, instead of being pushed the bold thrill of shoulders back, above it all strong standing tall the moment when fear collides with aliveness a smirk of, "just watch me," on her face. She had forgotten why jumping had mattered to her. © Ali Grimshaw 2020
Photo taken years back in Maui. After I wrote this I had to go searching to find this photo again. A happy memory is always worth searching for.
